


Set My Heart On Fire

by winterwaters



Series: Pretty Lights [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, PWP, Pretty Lights Universe, Smut, that's pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the Tumblr text post:</p><p>"No but guys someone told our professor that I had a fantastic pick up line and they made me tell her - Do you know how awkward it is to look your professor in the eye and say "I may not go down in history but I'll go down on you" and then she responds "I'm going to try that on my husband." "</p><p>--Modern AU. Clarke definitely wants to use that pick-up line on her husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enoughtotemptme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enoughtotemptme/gifts).



> Thank you for telling me about this post dear! This is entirely your fault ;) I like to think this falls into the Pretty Lights universe. PS happy Friday and congrats on the final week of class :D Title's from Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding. Hope you enjoy!

Clarke hummed to herself as she shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. After returning from work, she’d immediately traded her art teacher’s patterned smock for one of Bellamy’s oversized grey shirts and her blue sweats, the faded yellow lettering on the left leg spelling out her college’s name. It was Thursday, and so she’d made it back before Bellamy, as expected. The high school usually let out at 3:30, but he rarely ever left before 4:30 on account of a few students who couldn’t help but hang back and chat with him. Especially now that he’d opened up office hours, being the generous nerd he was. He always insisted, though, that he’d be home before 5.

 _Home._ The word still did strange things to her heart, making it twist and thump in her chest every time, setting something aflutter in her stomach until her whole body just felt tingly. 

They’d moved in together during their last year of grad school, and so of course for months the place had been an utter disaster - unopened boxes covering the hardwood floor, her portfolio works spread out over the ratty beloved blue couch where they'd had their first kiss, his thesis papers taking up every inch of what was supposed to be the dining table (where they'd proceeded to do more than kiss).

And it was perfect. 

After graduation, they’d spent nearly a week cleaning and finally managed to make the place look presentable enough to have people over - namely his sister, who refused to step inside until she could sit on a surface not covered in paint. Now, years into their careers as teachers, they were also husband and wife - two more words Clarke had never thought she’d get used to and now couldn’t get enough of.

At the moment, though, the living room was kind of a sight to behold once more. "Unmitigated disaster" were the words Raven had used, but neither Clarke or Bellamy really cared that much. This time, they were in the midst of packing - well, their version of it anyways, which really just involved finding old memories and making new ones as they saw fit. Most recently on the kitchen floor. And counter.

Clarke grinned to herself, shaking her head. It had been nearly eight months since her mother gave her the keys to the house - _their_ house. They hadn’t been in any rush to take it over, though. Her mom had insisted on getting the place fixed up properly before they moved in, and Clarke let her, knowing maybe the delay was necessary for both of them. And she and Bellamy certainly didn’t mind the extra time, seeing as their “honeymoon phase” - Octavia’s words, not hers - had seemed to last much longer than she expected.

It was still such an odd feeling, to look over at the tiny box on her dresser every night and know that soon, they would be living in her childhood home once more. And as a married couple no less. It was odd in the tickles-on-your-spine, curl-your-toes-and-sigh kind of way. Which was to say, amazing.

Opening the fridge, she was greeted with the sight of Bellamy’s cherry Coke sitting next to the apple pie that they hadn’t finished last night. Or, more accurately, the pie he had been craving and snagged on the way home, only to find her asleep on the couch wearing only his shirt. Pie forgotten, he’d decided to ravish her instead.

She sighed and rested her head against the fridge door for a moment. _Maybe we’ll finally get to it today…_ she thought idly. Then she remembered what one of her students had said that sent her mind spinning and grinned. _Okay, maybe not._

Today, as usual, her students had been distracted and gossipy as they walked into her classroom mid-morning. But in the midst of unpacking the materials she’d painstakingly set out from them, she heard pointed sniggering in one corner and decided to call out the three boys in question.

Tapping her foot expectantly, she nearly burst out laughing when she heard the response.

_“Travis was just telling me about an awesome pick up line,” said the blonde, and then poked the gangly boy next to him, who was staring daggers._

_“Please, enlighten me Travis,” she requested._

_The shaggy-haired boy audibly gulped, but to his credit, looked her direct in the eye and said, “I may not go down in history, but I’ll go down on you.” Then his face brightened like a cherry tomato. “I mean, not you, of course but that, uh, that’s the-”_

_She held up a hand to stop his rambling. “I’m going to try that on my husband,” she finally said, grinning as their jaws dropped in shock._

Clarke was rifling through the kitchen cupboards when the door sounded, and moments later Bellamy walked in.

“Hi husband,” she called out, not turning around.

Bellamy’s soft laugh reached her ears. Dropping his things in the living room, he strode to the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling his face into her shoulder. “Hi wife. Or should I call you princess wife, like that movie you made me watch _again_ on Sunday?”

“Shut up," she said even as she snuggled closer. "It’s _Princess Bride,_ and don’t even try to pretend that the second copy is Octavia’s because I know for a fact it’s not.” 

“Didn’t hear you complaining while you recited every Inigo Montoya line from memory.”

“You know you loved it.”

Laughing, Bellamy kissed her cheek with a wet smack, bringing a smile to her face. “Very well. How was your day, Mrs. Blake?” 

“Not bad. A few of the students actually provided decent entertainment. How about you?”

He grunted. “I’ll answer that once I’ve seen how many people actually handed in their paper on time.”

She giggled at his familiar irritation. “As if you were such a model student,” she teased.

“Hey, I was there when it counted,” he protested weakly, lightly pinching her sides. She yelped and swatted at him, only to be swept up into a proper kiss that made her melt in his arms instead.

When he let go, she had no choice but to wipe the smirk off his face with another kiss until the oven timer made them separate. “I’m amazed the house hasn’t burned down yet with the way you distract me,” she grinned and turned back to the counter. Bellamy only hummed and dragged his lips down her neck until she shoved him away with a laugh. 

As he ambled around the kitchen, she decided to dive right in, a little eager. “So some of my students were feeling particularly cheeky today. One of the girls was even insisting that her work would down in history some day.”

Bellamy scoffed. “Sure. Is that before or after she looks up from her phone?”

Clarke chuckled at his derision. He couldn’t _stand_ people checking their phones during class, and made no secret of it. Batting her eyelashes flirtatiously, she asked, “Do you think _I’d_ go down in history?” 

She could already see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out where she was going with the question. Finally he answered, “Maybe. Depends, what for?”

“My brilliant artistic skills, of course.”

Bellamy tapped his chin in mock thought, a smile looming. “It’s possible.”

“That’s it? It’s _possible?”_

“Come on, I have to see empirical evidence before making my final decision.”

There was her opening. Grinning slyly, she lifted an eyebrow, hooking her fingers around his belt loops to haul him close. “Well, I might not go down in history, but I’ll go down on you,” she leaned in to nibble his lower lip, only to have him burst into unrestrained laughter. A little startled, she jumped back just as he doubled over, slapping a knee.

“Did you just use a _line_ on me, Mrs. Blake?” He asked gleefully. 

“I-” Flushing hotly, she could only watch Bellamy chortle loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. She pouted. “I th-” She was cut off by his phone blaring on the counter. Miffed and a little bit embarrassed, she pushed him away, pointing at the ringing phone. 

Still chuckling, Bellamy answered it and plopped down on the couch with a sigh. “Hello. Hey, man. Yeah I’ve got their papers here. Why?” He dug down to rifle through the bag he’d dropped on the floor after walking in. “What’s the last name? Castor? Sounds familiar, hang on…”

As he muttered to himself, Clarke opened and closed the cabinets a little forcefully, her ego still bruised. She’d been _so_ sure that would work… well, she’d at least hoped it would start something instead of getting her laughed at. As much as she loved making Bellamy laugh, that had not been her intention this time around.

Throwing the remaining spices into the pan, she set it on the warm rack in the oven and closed it with a sigh. Bellamy’s voice rose again.

“Miller, come on, you had that girl’s sister in your class last year. They’re both completely spoiled and their parents practically own half the town. _No,_ I’m saying that means you should absolutely give her a C. Teach her the meaning of actual work.”

He was getting riled up, an arm hanging loosely over the back of the couch as he spoke. The same couch they’d decided to keep out of affection for the memories it held, though they'd picked out a few throws and pillows together after wandering from store to store for nearly half the day, arguing over color patterns and textures. Even now, the thought of something that was _theirs_ made her heart happy.

She stood in the kitchen and just watched Bellamy for a moment longer, the way he’d put a pen between his teeth and cradled the phone on his shoulder so he could wave his hands about even though Miller obviously couldn’t see him. It was just how he was. And she loved him all the more for it. He always got so passionate about his students. About a lot, really.

Her eyes drifted to the TV, where ESPN was on. A common occurrence, in their apartment. They spent maybe a little too much time arguing over football and basketball. Baseball on the other hand, neither of them had the patience for.

Bellamy grunted and raked a hand through his hair again, making it sticking up wildly every which way after. He was annoyed. Add that to his crisp white button up rolled to the elbows, still tucked into his dark work slacks, and he made quite a pretty picture in their living room. 

Feeling a bit devious, Clarke made note of the oven timer before wandering over, purposely staying behind the couch. Knowing Bellamy was thoroughly distracted, she took her time shaking out her hair from her messy braid. Then she stripped off her shirt, hanging it over the back of a chair - one of a set she’d convinced him to buy, if only to distract from the hideous old table he’d insisted on dragging from his apartment when he moved in. 

Finally striding casually into view, she grinned when his face stayed firmly trained on the notebook in front of him. That was, until she stepped directly between his legs, and then he nearly dropped everything, his face going slack-jawed at the sight of her just a teal bra and sweatpants. 

Clarke winked, then knelt down. Her hands traced light circles over his knees before drifting higher up his thighs. Bellamy released a strangled noise and hurriedly coughed to cover the sound.

“So-sorry, man. Can you, uh, repeat that last part?” He asked, voice wavering.

Grinning, she purposely pushed her breasts together while leaning up to swiftly bite his chin, nibbling along his beautiful jaw for an extra second. Then she’d gotten his belt buckle open and was eagerly reaching in to stroke his length over his briefs. His mouth formed a silent _o_ , one hand on her shoulder and the other gripping the phone, knuckles nearly white.

“Yeah, yeah, I agree,” he choked out. She stifled a snort, wondering if he even knew what he’d just said yes to.

One hand crawled under his shirt, nails tracing his abs until he was squirming in place. Bellamy's fingers slid up her neck, winding into her hair. Dispensing with the teasing, she freed his cock from his briefs, sighing quietly at how warm and firm he was in her hand. She ran her fingertip along the prominent vein, following its path all the way up to the dark head. Desperate, the hand in her hair gave up all restraint and closed around hers, guiding it to wrap around his cock. She grinned. A few quick pumps, and she could feel him grow harder. When she absently licked her lips, Bellamy whispered a curse, his head dropping back. 

She giggled softly, making him crack his eyes open to meet hers again. She could hear Miller still chattering away on the phone, but it didn’t look like Bellamy was even listening. Or even remembered the phone was on.

She wiggled her eyebrows, then leaned forward to take a long lick up the length of his shaft. A soft groan reached her ears, his hand tangling deep into her hair once more. Humming in agreement, she repeated the motion a few times. A quick peek upwards showed his head resting on the back of the couch again, eyes shut in bliss. Smiling, she closed her mouth over the tip of him, lapping up the liquid that had gathered before sucking gently. 

_“Shit-”_ His hips jerked wildly. The hand in her hair tightened to a fist, only spurring her on as she flicked her eyes up at him. Bellamy’s breathing came ragged, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Bracing herself against his knees, Clarke swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, taking more of him into her mouth. She loved the taste of him, salt and musk with the soundtrack of his sighs playing like a loop in the background.

Bellamy gulped hard and then coughed again, speaking into the phone. “Hey listen man can we finish this later, _Igottago-_ ” he cut off the call without waiting for an answer, immediately groaning loudly. “Jesus _fuck,_ princess.”

Smiling, she continued to bob her head up and down, relishing the cut off curses that reached her ears. He was _so close_ to losing control, she could feel it. He was always so quick to make her feel good; her favorite thing was being able to return the favor. The thought had her thighs squeezing together, the dampness in her panties only increasing by the second.

“Clarke-” Bellamy gasped and tugged a little at her hair, and she looked up in question, releasing him with a soft _pop._ Without warning, he hooked his arms under hers and hauled her to her feet, yanking her sweats and underwear down at once and leaning forward to bury his face between her legs. Pleasure sizzled in a hot stripe up her spine.

 _”A-aahhh, god-”_ Even as her voice gave out, her fingers automatically curled into his thick hair, holding his face to her cunt. She felt his mouth curve up, the cocky jerk, but any scolding simply died on her lips when his tongue dipped hotly between her folds. A high keen was what resulted instead, most definitely in the form of his name. Bellamy moaned appreciatively and her knees nearly buckled but for the strong arm he had around her waist. Relentless, his tongue swept through her warmth in broad strokes until her toes curled and her hips began to tilt frantically. When his lips closed over her clit, a familiar knot began to unravel low in her belly. She dug her nails into his shoulders. 

“Bell, I- _shit,_ wait, I want you, please-”

After taking a final long lick that made her shudder, Bellamy stood. Clarke immediately pulled his red mouth to hers in a hungry kiss, sighing when he pulled her flush against him. He palmed the swell of her ass, grinning at her low whine, then braced his hands under her thighs, picking her up with ease. They both groaned as soon as her heated core came into contact with his cock. She looped her arms around his neck, turning her attention to the spot along his throat that she knew was particularly sensitive. Moments later, his soft curse sounded in her ear. Her smirk was only broken by a shiver when her bare back hit the wall. Bellamy sucked hard at her pulse, positioning himself at her entrance, and her hands wandered over his shoulders for purchase when he teased her a moment too long.

 _“Bellamy.”_ In retaliation, she bit down on a chord of muscle in his neck, determined to leave a mark his students would see the next day.

He grunted and gave in, slowly pushing into her. Clarke’s head tipped back. Her legs locked around him tight, her slick heat welcoming his cock with ease. “Damn, Clarke.” Bellamy’s sigh sounded harshly against her ear, and then he smiled so sweetly her heart nearly burst. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

In reply, she lifted his head up for a messy kiss. Bellamy didn’t waste any more time, pounding into her over and over, the slap of flesh echoed only by their rising moans. She clutched at his shoulders, nails scraping his skin as her muscles began to spasm uncontrollably. 

“That’s it, come on, princess,” Bellamy murmured. He knew all too well how his low voice affected her. She fought for breath, instead letting out a choked whimper. "I know, I know-- come on, Clarke, baby, come for me," he whispered. His hand snuck between them to rub at her clit, and she cried out against his lips, calling his name. Bellamy gripped her tightly as he fell apart seconds later, with her right behind him. Gulping for air, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. His chest heaved similarly against hers, his harsh pants the only other sound in the room.

Then he shook a little, his grip slipping. “Sorry,” he murmured, “can’t keep us up longer.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, still boneless.

They slumped to the floor with her still in his lap, arms and legs loosely wound around him. “Fuck, Clarke,” he said hoarsely.

Her answering smile was equal parts dazed and smug. “I concur.” She nipped at his nose as he rested his forehead against hers, breathless, shoulders shaking in a laugh. Smiling happily, she snuck her hands inside his shirt to trace the cut of his pectorals as they sat curled together on the floor. After a few minutes, she looked towards the kitchen. “I think dinner is officially burnt.”

“I don’t care about dinner,” he muttered. 

But five minutes later, he was forced to care when the smoke alarm went off. Giggling, Clarke found herself standing on a chair waving a handtowel under the beeping detector while Bellamy hurried to shut off the oven and remove the charred remains of their meal.

“Thank god Gino’s was still open,” she called. “How long did they say the pizza would take?”

Bellamy’s grin was feral when he approached. Without warning, he tossed her over his shoulder. “Just long enough for me to have an appetizer,” he declared, and set off down the hall to their bedroom.

Her bright laughter was all that echoed back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Bellamy insisted on payback.  
> 2\. This turned out to be total coincidence, but great minds think alike hehe <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm... I'm trash? yeah, that covers it. :3

Clarke glanced up at the clock for the third time. 12:17p.m. 

The seconds had seemed to tick by at a leisurely pace ever since she’d set foot in the classroom, late as she was. It made the few hours that had passed feel more like days. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being here. Normally, the smell of paints and the sight of empty canvases filled her with a great anticipation for what the day would bring. 

But today, she wasn’t here to teach art, or even do her own work. Today was an in-service day, the first of many, where teachers had to undergo annual district-mandated trainings that never failed to bore her to tears. She was already worn out by the the numerous papers scattered across her desk. It seemed like every year there was something new to sign for the school district.

Nothing says happy Monday like paperwork, she thought ruefully. Then her eyes drifted to the empty purple coffee mug sitting next to her folders. _Keep Calm and Pretend It’s On the Lesson Plan._ She smiled to herself. The gift was from Bellamy, of course, who had also been the main reason she was late this morning. With good reason. 

Her legs clamped together at the thought of how she’d woken to his head between her thighs, that far too clever tongue teasing and torturing until she was calling his name so loudly their neighbors down the block might have heard. And if that hadn’t been enough, he’d then slid into her and set a slow, lazy pace that set her nerves on fire, kissing her like they had all the time in the world.

They were both particularly fond of using their new bed, as it turned out. It was the first major purchase either had ever made - and together, no less. Along with the pillows and blankets and the duvet - yes, she’d insisted on the duvet - it was entirely _theirs,_ and just the sight of its neatly made corners - her husband’s doing, of course - made her smile every night. 

So what if they’d maybe taken to it a little too eagerly for their neighbors’ liking now and then? As Bellamy liked to remind her, they were moving in less than a month’s time; the others would survive a measly three weeks. And at least the springs on this mattress didn’t squeak - a fact Clarke liked to take full advantage of whenever she roused in the middle of the night wrapped around Bellamy’s solid form. The familiar stirring low in her body was usually not far behind. Which was usually how she woke up the following morning with even fewer clothes on than she’d worn to bed, and Bellamy already wide awake, easing her out of sleep with rough words against her ear and caresses along her spine that made her want all over again.

In any case, that was one of many reasons she had nearly been late to work this morning-- but entirely worth it, in her opinion.

She was still sitting there a few minutes later with a foolish grin, pen frozen above paper, when a knock at her open door startled her out of it. Her husband stood in the doorway, boyishly charming in his flannel button-up and jeans, that beloved lopsided smile firmly in place. 

“Hey princess.”

“Hi!” Clarke let out a happy laugh as Bellamy strode inside, rounding her desk to lift her out of her chair into a bear hug. “What are you doing here?”

"Visiting my wife, of course."

She felt his smile all the way to her toes. That, and the rasp of stubble on his jaw as he nuzzled her cheek. She giggled - partly from giddiness and partly to cover up the sparks it sent through her frame.

"Can't argue with that," she sighed. 

“Brought you lunch from the deli,” Bellamy murmured. His in-service days had come and gone last week. He’d just taken an extra day off to continue packing his books oh so carefully. “And I thought you could use a pick me up.” 

“You already gave me several pick me ups this morning, if I remember correctly.”

Chuckling, he set his backpack down on the floor. “You complaining?” The grin on his face was far too cheeky, and she’d just started to register the wicked glint in his eyes when he stepped away to lock the classroom door.

“Bellamy…” The words got stuck in her throat as he crossed the room in a few long strides, pointedly shuttering the blinds on her single window. Her pulse entered a gallop. _Oh god. I’m in so much trouble._

Bellamy took her into his arms, his lips descending onto hers. It was soft and warm and patient, and within seconds Clarke was sighing and opening up to him, her hands sinking into his tousled hair. Even when his tongue passed her lips, he kept the pace slow and gentle, every touch a caress until she was trembling.

She knew exactly what he was doing.

It wasn’t like she’d never thought about this. First off, she was only human, and secondly, her best friend was also her husband, and said man in question was Bellamy Blake, so, yeah, semi-public sex was most definitely a fantasy. And neither of them had made any secret of it, especially back in grad school where his talented hands had gotten her off between the bookshelves more than once, his mouth swallowing all her gasps, or when she’d gone down on him outside of the newly-built science building when they were a bit tipsy and yeah, he’d sort of dared her, but what followed had been some quite spectacular bent-over-the-kitchen table sex, and so it was definitely a thing now.

Being married hadn’t necessarily changed that, aside from the fact that age now determined how willing their bodies were to contort to fit into cramped spaces, but, still- they'd gotten creative. Which, frankly, resulted in a hell of a lot of teasing in his truck until Bellamy finally gave in and installed tinted windows. It was on one of those long drives that he had coaxed this particular daydream out of her, having gotten her naked and panting beneath him on the open flatbed, parked in the middle of nowhere. Her mind hazy with need, the words had spilled from her lips a little too easily, only consumed by the thought of her own pleasure at the moment.

Still, Clarke had never actually thought he’d go through with it.

She shivered at the thought, and Bellamy smiled where his lips were busy sucking at her pulse. His large hands smoothed over the simple black dress she’d put on just that morning - with no help from him - before slipping underneath the hem. Her fingers tightened where they clutched his shoulders, a small whimper escaping her mouth as his knuckles grazed her skin.

He lifted his head briefly, those kissable lips twisting into a smirk. “As much as I hate to say it, you’ll have to be quiet, princess. Can’t have everyone knowing what’s going on, right?” 

She stared back into his molten eyes, her body already responding to the promise in his voice. “Yeah, o-okay,” she whispered, nodding frantically. 

Bellamy kissed her again, and this time he took her mouth hungrily, swallowing her moans as she pressed against him. Clarke stretched to her tiptoes - not so difficult thanks to her heels - and kissed him back just as fiercely until he began to walk her backwards. When she hit the edge of the desk, she immediately slid onto it, pulling him to stand between her legs. 

But his hands covered hers when she tugged at his shirt, pressing them against the desk instead. “This is about you,” he murmured. She protested, trying to say all she wanted was him, but then his fingers were at the back zipper of her dress, easing it down enough to push the fabric to her waist. Bellamy took his time drinking her in, even though he’d watched her put on the pale blue bra just hours before. Not for the first time, Clarke wondered how he did it - every time he looked at her like that, she felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Just as he was leaning in again, her cellphone rang.

Clarke jumped in surprise but hurriedly locked her legs around his hips. “Don’t you dare stop,” she said, and he laughed softly.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

As her phone continued to ring, Bellamy licked a path along the swell of her breast, his thumb grazing over the cup of her bra and making her back arch. She threaded her hands into his hair, sighing when the phone finally stopped.

Only to have her desk phone begin ringing. “Seriously?” She swore, feeling Bellamy’s mouth curl up. Leaning over, she was about to end the call when she saw the ID. “Damnit,” she groaned. He looked up at the defeat in her voice.

“What is it?” His voice dipped lower than usual, taking on a gravelly tone that made her toes curl.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of this student’s mom for _days,_ and she chooses _now_ to call me back,” she all but growled. With a sigh, she kissed him apologetically. “I have to take this.”

Leaning over, she yanked the phone off the receiver with a little more force than necessary. “Hello, this is Mrs. Blake.” The name never failed to Bellamy smile radiantly. “Yes, Mrs. Tellerman, hi. Thanks for returning my call. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” 

She began fumbling to pull her dress up, only to have Bellamy stop her. Looking up in confusion, she found him smirking wickedly. Then he hooked a finger around both bra straps, dragging them down and freeing her breasts. Her nipples stiffened in the cool air, and when his thumb brushed teasingly over one she had to put a hand over her mouth, her legs squeezing his hips.

 _Stop that!_ She mouthed.

He only smirked and did it again. Clarke hung onto his arm, her nails digging into his skin as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

“C-could you hold on for a second, please?” Her brain was scrambled. “I’m just getting in, but I really want to follow up about Maggie’s progress. Thanks.” With shaking fingers, she pressed the ‘hold’ button on her phone, setting the receiver back in its cradle. 

Turning to scold Bellamy, she could only moan when he began to roll and pinch her nipples without warning.

“Shit shit shit,” she pressed her mouth to his as all her blood ran south, heat gathering rapidly between her thighs. “Bellamy, I can’t-”

“But you can,” he murmured, all the while still palming her breasts and nearly making her eyes roll back. “Take the call, Clarke.” His eyebrows wiggled. “Put it on speaker.”

Her laugh was half-astonished, half-aroused. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe a little. But I trust you to be quiet,” he grinned and bent to nip at her earlobe. “Just like you trusted me. Remember?”

Oh god. She absolutely did remember, the way she’d taken him deep in her mouth while he was trying to discuss something with Miller, the spectacular wall fucking that had occurred afterwards, their burnt dinner and the way the pizza delivery guy had needed just one look at their faces and sex hair to blush as red as his beard… 

So this was payback now. Smirking, Bellamy repeated, “Take the call.” 

She was shaking her head in protest, trying to shove him away, when he reached out and pressed the button for her. Clarke shot him a murderous glare even as the voice filtered through the speaker. “Mrs. Blake?”

Bellamy hummed low against her neck before languidly tracing her earlobe with his tongue. Yeah, he loved the sound of that.

“Yes, I’m here. Sorry about that.” Shit, she had to do something about her breathy voice. 

“Not a problem. So sorry it took me this long to return your call, the kids and I were on vacation and then my husband had to travel for work and I was taking Maggie to the hospital for her follow-ups, and you know how things get--”

Bellamy’s mouth dragged slowly down her chest, alternately licking and nibbling the sensitive skin. The short, coarse hairs on his cheeks were leaving a fiery trail that made her shake.

“Right, right I understand,” Clarke paused, shoving her fingers into her mouth as Bellamy’s tongue flicked over her nipple. He grinned, pleased at her reaction, and latched onto her breast, laving the stiff peak. “W-well, Maggie’s, ah, she’s been keeping up well so far.” Her back curved helplessly.

“That’s a relief to hear. Mrs. Blake, you sound odd, are you alright?”

“Fine,” she managed. Bellamy’s smirk was far too self-satisfied as he switched to her other breast, enveloping the nipple into his hot mouth and sucking gently. Clarke barely stifled her whimper by biting his shoulder, her hips rolling against his. “J-just finding her latest assignment.”

Mrs. Tellerman’s voice droned on as Bellamy dropped kisses down her belly before rucking her dress up and over her thighs. His fingers ran lightly up and down her legs, teasingly getting closer to the center each time but then pulling back. Clarke wasn’t sure if she wanted to kill him or kiss him. The other woman’s voice brought her back to the present. 

“... spoke to my husband and I think she’ll be ready to come back full-time, to get back into the routine of things.”

Bellamy dragged her to the edge of the desk, easing her underwear off. _Oh fuck. Get off the phone, now now now._

“That’s great news,” she said shakily. “I’ll be sure to keep you posted of her progress. We can speak again at the open house.” Her hands twisted into Bellamy’s hair as he knelt, spreading her legs wide. He raised a single devious eyebrow at her.

“That would be fantastic. And thank you so much again for being such a help, Mrs. Blake. Maggie adores you.”

Bellamy paused to send her a brilliant smile, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. She loosened her grip a little, fingers carding through the unruly curls at his forehead, and he turned his head to kiss her wrist just as gently. 

“Of course. She’s a great kid,” Clarke responded genuinely. “Tell her I said hello.”

“I will, absolutely. Have a great rest of your day!”

Her dear husband chose that moment to lick a stripe up her folds, and Clarke nearly cursed and moaned all at once, shoving her face into the crook of her elbow. Bellamy squeezed her hips where his hands were firmly splayed. _Quiet,_ he mouthed. 

_Fuck you,_ she mouthed back. He grinned.

“Goodbye,” she managed, and smacked the phone repeatedly until she heard a dial tone, then switched it off. “God, I’m going to kill you, Bell,” she moaned brokenly.

“Liar. You enjoyed that.” He punctuated it by putting his mouth on her again, making the most obscene sounds as he lapped up evidence of just how much she _had_ enjoyed it. She was too far gone to care, desperately curling over him as her hips greedily rocked upwards. 

“Please, Bellamy,” she begged. A pained noise escaped him and he complied, easing two fingers inside her. Clarke bit her lip to keep from crying out, feeling the tension coil wonderfully deep in the pit of her stomach. Her hands twisted into his hair, scraping his neck as she tried to pull him closer, wantonly opening her legs wider. Bellamy swore and increased his pace as her muscles began to spasm. His lips closed over her clit, sucking hard as his fingers continued pumping. 

Her breath hitched and faltered as the pleasure spiraled to an almost unbearable peak, and then she was all but using his face, grinding her hips hard as she leaned back, eyes fixated on the flickering ceiling lights. She came apart with a hand fitted tightly over her mouth, catching the noises that she just couldn’t keep contained as the orgasm crashed through her. Bellamy lingered, softly licking at her release and murmuring into her skin until finally she dragged him up by the hair, crushing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss.

His lips were slick and wet with _her,_ and it made heat spiral through all over again, the familiar throb settling back into her body. Still shaking a little, she collapsed against his chest, winding her arms around his back as she caught her breath.

Bellamy kissed her damp forehead, his hands unfailingly gentle as he straightened out her clothes. “I promise I did actually bring you food too,” he grinned.

She mumbled something incoherent, feeling his chest rumble in a laugh. Then she realized what he was doing and pushed his hands away from where they were tugging her dress back on. Before he could protest, she brought his head back down, wasting no time licking past his lips to explore the hot cavern of his mouth. Her legs rounded his waist, purposely rocking forward against the hard length straining against his jeans. His groan vibrated deeply against her lips, his fingers flexing uncontrollably where they dug into her thighs. 

“Clarke--”

“I have fifteen minutes left in my lunch hour,” she breathed, hands slipping under his shirt. His head dropped to her shoulder as her nails raked over his pectorals. “Pretty sure we can beat that time,” she grinned, nipping his ear.

“Is that a challenge?” 

“Maybe.”

Clarke made quick work of his belt, shoving his zipper down and eagerly closing her fingers over his length. Bellamy’s hand slapped against the desk as he pushed into her palm with a helpless moan. She hummed, her teeth flashing over his pulse as she continued to pump him almost lazily. Bellamy planted a dizzying kiss on her lips, a hand fisting in her hair as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. Heat slid down her spine again. Gasping, Clarke added a twist to her wrist, grinning smugly when his whole body gave a jerk.

Then his hand covered hers. “Wait,” he said hoarsely. “I need- I want to be inside you.” 

She nodded, but surprised him by putting her hands on his chest to make him step back. He watched curiously as she kicked off her heels and hopped off. Turning, she glanced over her shoulder with a coy grin, and purposely put her mug on the floor before bending over the dark wood. 

“Fuck.” Bellamy drew a hand over his face and crowded her close almost instantly, a hand sweeping aside her hair so his mouth could latch onto the curve of her neck. He lifted her dress to her waist, caressing the swell of her ass and cursing when her legs parted. Clarke wiggled back against him, her laugh turning into a choked off moan when he thrust two fingers deep inside her. Her walls clenched instantly, drawing pained groans from both of them. 

“Bellamy,” she begged, “hurry up.”

He withdrew his fingers, and before she could whine at the emptiness, his thick cock was replacing them. Clarke shoved her face into her arms, shuddering at the sensation of being filled and stretched so deliciously. Bellamy’s hands gripped her waist, his breaths coming shallow. And yet, he remained still for long enough that she nearly cried.

“Damnit Bell, do _something,_ we haven’t got all--”

He drew out and crashed back into her so hard she nearly screamed, biting her palm at the last second. A heavy arm wrapped around her front, and then his breath warmed her skin as he pounded into her, each thrust somehow deeper than the last. The edge of the desk cut into the tops of her thighs, but it wasn’t painful, just another thing to add to her adrenaline-filled memories. Clarke pushed back against each of his thrusts, feeling the tension coil wonderfully in her cunt, heightened by the urgent sounds Bellamy was making behind her. 

Then his hand shifted downwards, ghosting over her clit, and she let out a whimper at the shock of pleasure that jolted through her. She knocked Bellamy’s hand aside in her haste, rubbing desperate circles over the sensitive bud of nerves.

“That’s it, baby, touch yourself for me,” Bellamy groaned. “Fuck, you know how hot that is?”

She couldn't reply, having lost all coherent thought. The low timbre of his voice was what unraveled her completely, and she could only press her face into her arms, her breaths hitchy and uncontrolled as she came apart with a small cry. Bellamy stilled, burying himself deeply, murmuring encouragement into her skin until she sagged, utterly spent. Then his hips began to snap into hers more recklessly, and soon he was spilling hot and heavy inside her, his groan muffled against her back.

The metal of the desk was cool against Clarke's forehead as she caught her breath, her chest rising and falling as her lungs attempted to regain normal function. The uneven puffs of air on her skin indicated Bellamy was doing the same, with very little success, even though his hands were soothing along her sides in an attempt to calm her. She smiled and slumped even further, feeling Bellamy’s low chuckle as he kissed her shoulder. He drew out a minute later, pulling her dress down with a gentle hand and turning her to sit on the desk while he fixed his own clothes. 

Giggling, Clarke reached out to pat down his messy hair, trying to resist the urge to just tug him closer all over again.

“Good thing you have an eternal bedhead,” she grinned. “Otherwise everyone would know what just happened.”

He winked. “Can’t say the same for you. Might want to use that little mirror to fix up your hair before the next meeting.”

“Oh god.” She took a few wobbly steps to dig around in her purse, eyes widening when she caught sight of her wild hair in the compact. “Nothing’s going to save this,” she decided, yanking it into a ponytail. 

He wrapped his arms around her. “For what it’s worth, I was a fan.”

“Of course you were.” Sighing, she leaned back into his embrace. She still had a few minutes, after all. “I’m glad I saved the mug,” she murmured absently.

Bellamy laughed and nuzzled his face into the hollow of her neck. “I would have bought you another one.”

“Yeah, but it’s about nostalgia. I’ve had this in every classroom since I started teaching, you know that.”

“I know,” he whispered warmly. 

She hummed and shifted a little, making a face when the stickiness between her thighs became too much to ignore. “I should go use the restroom before this next session.”

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead before fishing a small box out of his backpack. “Make sure you eat. Now you can’t pretend you were too busy to skip lunch.” 

She shoved his shoulder as he grinned, but took the box anyways. “Same goes for you. I know where you live.”

Bellamy gave her a mock salute. “Scout’s honor. Oh, also, I found one of your old portfolios from grad school. I was thinking we could use it to transport some of your artwork to the house. It might take a couple trips, but it’s better than it getting crushed during the actual move.”

“That’d be great, Bell. Thanks.” She leaned up for a light kiss, squeaking when he hooked an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him.

“I was also thinking… we should get a desk like this for the new home office.”

He was laughing as she shoved him out the door, a furious blush rising in her cheeks. He kissed her one more time. With a wink and a flash of his crooked smile, he began walking backwards down the hall.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking it too,” he called.

Clarke grinned to herself and leaned against the doorframe a moment longer. Yeah, she totally was.


End file.
